


blame it on the space booze

by bishounen_curious



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Dominance, Drinking Games, First Time, Frottage, Hook-Up, Kissing, Korean Keith (Voltron), Latino Lance (Voltron), M/M, Relationship(s), Tropes, Tropes Everywhere, With Probable Feelings, mysterious space booze, this whole fic is unecessary drama, uneccessary drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 11:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8100694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishounen_curious/pseuds/bishounen_curious
Summary: Lance was too much of an ass, Keith far too impulsive, and Shiro just wanted to have a good time. And, well, why exactly would they drink all that space booze when they had no idea what it actually was?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have never been as stressed about a fic as I have with this one. It started as a trope piece and it turned into this monster.
> 
> for all the spanish translation/checking, thank you [silver-chevalier](http://silver-chevalier.tumblr.com/) !!! You're too good for my disastrous ass!!!
> 
> and as usual, and especially with this nonsense, thank you to [chonpalm](http://absolite.co.vu/) for beta-ing this mess!!!

_Voltron wasn’t just the Defender of the Universe_ , Hunk had groused after they all had reboarded the castle. _Apparently it was also the Defender of Everyday Fender-Benders, too._

Unsurprisingly, Allura had scolded the yellow lion’s pilot as he complained. _We must help anyone and anything that needs our help. No matter how big or small. That’s what being a Paladin of Voltron is all about blah blah blah_. It had been weeks since they had been roped into this shindig. The whole Paladins of Voltron thing: fighting evil, saving the known universe, hearing Allura’s beaten-to-death pitch for the hundredth time. _We get it already. Voltron is more important to you than anything. Even more so than us._

Sure, it had been annoying to have to help yet another individual with a faulty ship in need of spare parts again. Especially since the last time didn’t end so hot. But this time, with everyone’s guards up, everything had ended up ok. No one captured, or dead, or handcuffed to a pole or anything embarrassing like that. 

In fact, the alien-person-thing had been tremendously thankful for the extra help. Like, incredibly so. They were so grateful they had given Team Voltron a few bottles of _something_ as a gift, which was pretty dang nice. Allura had shown her appreciation to them in her typical ambassadorial way. Lance had tried not to roll his eyes at her. Then, both parties had left one another and went on their merry ways back to their respected ships.

Now it was night time chill time. Nada on the schedule for once - and Lance was loving it. Nothing like a job well done to raise someone’s spirits, right? Just kickin’ off the old pilot suit and taking it easy. Lance waltzed over to Hunk and batted his eyelashes, raising his voice’s pitch to mimic the alien they had assisted. “Thank you so much for all your hard work! I’m so grateful to all of you - especially that handsome guy in blue for practically doing everything for me~”

“Lance, we all know you did squat.” Keith groused, placing his helmet onto the coffee table in the common area with a graceless thud. Feh. Typical Keith. He perched himself on the couch as far away from Lance as possible, the sourest look scrunching up his gross face. “If anything, Hunk did most of the work.”

“Yeah!” Hunk exclaimed, gratitude from the praise shining in his bright eyes. But it was gone in a flash. He rounded around to the back of the couch and planted himself behind Keith, crossing his arms bitterly. What a effing traitor - ganging up on him with the mullet freak. “I gotta be honest, dude. You were just sitting down, snoozing.”

“I beg your pardon!” Lance touched his fingers to his chest, hoping his mock chagrin masked his actual hurt at being betrayed by his best friend. “Without all the moral support from me, we wouldn’t have --“

“Guys, c’mon.” Shiro cut in between the arguing teenagers with a placatingly-firm look. “We should be celebrating a job well done. Not fighting about it.”

“He’s right!” Allura added, setting down the gifted bottles on the table. Then, she paused, and grimaced. With all the chill she could muster, she scowled at Keith’s feet, which had been propped up on the table. She had to clear her throat twice before he noticed, and sheepishly, removed them before she resumed talking. Ha. He fucking deserved that one. “We did a good job. I’m proud of you all for how smoothly that went.” 

She paused then, glancing up at the ceiling as she thought. “As a matter of fact, I believe that’s the first mission you all have accomplished without any hiccups.”

All of the Paladins went awkwardly silent while Coran and Allura entertained themselves reminiscing over their mishaps. For only having had started piloting the lions a few weeks back, there was a humiliatingly long list of their group fuck-ups... The two Alteans were way too jovial about it, and couldn’t even get through half of them before Shiro gave an uncomfortable cough and steered the pair towards a different subject. The other four silently thanked him for cutting the humiliation short. It’d been a tough week, and they definitely couldn’t take yet another round of fault-finding.

It happened way too frequently in this castle.

“As you said,” the eldest Paladin smiled, sitting besides Keith and removing his helmet. “We did well. We should celebrate.”

“I concur.” Lance joined in, jumping over the back of the couch and pointing some finger guns at the bottles. “Let’s do it with whatever the quiznak we just got as presents.”

When Lance landed besides him, Keith rolled his eyes and attempted to pick yet another fight, but Shiro held a hand up to shush him. The red pilot just sulked, dropping his shoulders in a very jilted way. With a tired exhale, Keith mumbled disgruntledly. “I agree with Lance.”

_What? You do?_

“But what even is it?” Pidge climbed between Lance and Keith and settled in, their laptop already nestled between their bent knees and chest. They were typing away, the keyboard clacking softly, the bluish-white screen reflecting on their glasses. How they could do that, type and shit, without even looking at their computer was beyond Lance. All their focus was on the bottles, distrust curling in their pouting face. “It could be poison for all we know.”

“Exactly! I don’t trust random people with ship malfunctions anymore!” Hunk crouched in front of the bottles, analyzing them intensely, like he was trying to win a staring contest with them. “ _Poison._ It’s probably poison. A lethal, light blue poison.”

“What if it’s just space booze?” Lance offered with a shrug. “I, for one, am up for an adventure. Besides, nothing can be as bad as that nasty stuff we had with the Arusians.” He blew a raspberry for emphasis and gave a solid two thumbs down at the memory. Which Allura and Coran clearly did not appreciate.

Coran started squawking about _Nunvill being a delicacy_ but Lance just patronizingly waved him off, which made the older man fume in silence. “So, anyway…” As he thought, Lance began tapping a rhythm onto his thighs. “Who’s taking one for the team and taste-testing this stuff?”

All eyes immediately locked onto him. _That’s savage, y’all_. Lance’s eyes widened, protesting with a whine of, “Guys, c’mon! Don’t sacrifice me like that!”

Allura rolled her eyes. “None of you should drink it -“ 

“I’ll do it.” Shiro volunteered all too eagerly.

Allura and Coran both _screeched_ at him not to, but he was already unscrewing the cap and taking a small sip directly out of the bottle. It was _surreal_. Lance entered a state of pure awe. So deeply and wholly so that he forgot to start chanting _chug!_ like he probably would have if he wasn’t so flabbergasted at the sight of their team leader acting like he was at a frat party.

After tasting it, Shiro swirled it around his mouth for a moment. Then, when he swallowed, he laughed happily. “It tastes exactly like fruity vodka.”

Today was just getting better and better, wasn’t it?

Lance and Hunk high fived each other, victoriously cheering at the top of their lungs, “Space booze!”

“Shiro!” Allura castigated, snatching the bottle out of his grasp with something close to a feral snarl. “What if it was toxic? You have to be more careful! I expect this kind of nonsense from Lance!”

“Hey!” Lance pouted.

Allura ignored his outburst. “But from you?! I don’t believe it.”

With a small, guilty smile the eldest Paladin shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “It was impulsive, yeah, but… I don’t know. I just had a hunch it was safe.”

In less than a tick, Lance was sandwiched between the two adults, a shit-eating grin stretching the warm (beautiful, perfectly moisturized) skin of his face. “Damn, Shiro, you _boozehound_. You just know where to find the good stuff, huh?”

A small chorus of groans came from Keith and Pidge. But Lance couldn’t care less.

“Alright, settle down.” Shiro flushed a little, yet still seemed in good spirits. Which was good. Lance could work with that. “But… I guess it’s been awhile since I could unwind like that. I can’t say I’m not a _little_ excited.”

Lance snorted. “Not much drinking happens in Galra prison?” 

It was supposed to be a joke, but everyone, including Shiro, shot Lance a dirty look. Humiliated, he just shrunk back into to the couch and sat mutely, his ears burning, momentarily stunned. Okay, maybe he did deserve that. 

Even Hunk wasn’t trying to console him - he _definitely_ deserved it.

“Well.” Pidge broke the silence, closing their laptop suddenly and jumping up to their feet. “If you’re going to have a party, I’m going up to my room. I’m tired.” The way their expression contorted up in disdain suggested otherwise, though. It was obvuous they were just not in the mood to hang out with everyone. Without another word, Pidge padded through the automatic doors and left.

Coran sighed. His eyes had been shifting nervously between the bottles and the princess ever since they had re-boarded the castle. It struck Lance as a little odd. Coran was jumpy, and it was easier to unravel his composure than a ball of yarn, yet… things seemed a little more complicated. A little more involved than that. Lance watched him as Coran tapped his gloved fingertips together and said unconvincingly, “I’m not sure having a party is the safest option… right?”

Suddenly it clicked in Lance’s brain. _Coran wanted to get smashed._

 _Ayy_ , he definitely could use this to his advantage.

As expected, Allura nodded in agreement to her right-hand man. “Right. Paladins must be ready to fight at a tick’s notice. Having your judgment warped is incredibly unsafe.”

“But we all can’t be alert every single moment.” Hunk bellyached. The big guy was putting on his best teacher’s pet face. Sparkles were practically haloing his head - and Lance had to admit, Hunk had his talents. And one of them was kissing ass. “We’ll just burn out and be useless. Like _not able to form Voltron_ useless.”

Keith made a face, but to Lance’s bewilderment, he looked like he was on the same page. “As much as I hate to say it… I agree.”

_Holy shit._

And besides…” Keith’s voice became almost inaudible, “Ilikevodka.”

Well, well.

“What was that?” Lance goaded, leaning in closer to him. One hundred percent trying to taunt him. “Does Keith likes girly drinks?”

It was blatantly obvious how quickly annoyance was bubbling up inside him, but Keith struggled to stay stone-faced. Fighting was going to weaken their case. Being civil was only true pathway to getting them smashed sooner.

Coran, _beautiful, sensical Coran_ , just nervously grinned as he touched Allura’s shoulder and added, his voice quaking only slightly, “For once, I’m taking their side, Princess.”

Lance could’ve done a happy dance. Though, he’d save that for when he actually had a drink in his hand.

The vote was in: it was four against one, with one impartial (thanks a lot, Pidge…) There was no way Allura was going to further pursue this issue if she was going to maintain the group harmony. She had pressed those limits when they had first started piloting the lions - once had proven to be enough. And she realized that - especially with the frustrated scrunch of her face and the tenseness she suddenly carried in her shoulders. Allura was far too stubborn to lose an argument that she believed she was in the right with. The next best thing was to take the bigger person route out - the politician’s way to safety.

It was physically painful to keep his mouth shut and not rub it in her face as she disappointingly told them to do whatever they wanted. That if the universe suddenly became in grave danger, they could pull themselves together enough to form Voltron. Not stumble around like intoxicated idiots and get them all killed. Her footsteps followed the same path Pidge had, flashing the most sour, exhausted look at all them, especially at Coran, as she exited the room.

Lance almost felt bad for her.

But then he remembered he was about to getting fucking bombed and all his sympathy flew out the window.

When the door shut, Lance’s ability to control himself evaporated into thin air. (Or wait… could that expression still be used in space…? Whatever, dude, not the time.) Eagerly, he reached for one of the bottles and cradled it lovingly in his arms. Bestowing a tender kiss to the tip of the bottleneck, he began his transformation from Regular Lance to Fiesta Lance. “Who’s ready to get fucked up?”

“Don’t say it like that, dude,” Hunk fidgeted with the worn leather of his fingerless gloves as he chanced an apprehensive side glance to the remaining adults. Quietly, he added into Lance’s ear, all humid and way too close, “What if they change their minds?”

“They won’t.” Lance reassured back, with a volume everyone could hear. Hunk looked queasy with nerves, and Lance just patted his back without a care in the world. “Everyone’s too desperate to let loose, mi amigo.”

At that, Shiro chuckled. Because he knew it was damn true. Lance was about to give him a high five but Shiro was on his feet and leaving the room before Lance could even lift his arm. Everyone shared a confused look, and Lance felt his perfect evening disappearing from his grasp, like sand through a sieve. Hopeless was weighing him down, yet all hope was not lost because Shiro promptly returned, holding a bunch of glasses in his arms and an excited glint in his eyes. “We can let loose but at least we’re going to be civilized about it.”

“Awww, no solo cups?”

“Can it.” Keith grumbled, accepting the cup he was handed with a glare in Lance’s direction.

Hunk snorted as he grabbed one of the bottles. With a grunt of effort, he cracked open one of them (how had Shiro made it look so easy only minutes before?). Bizarre, cerulean liquid fizzed out and splattered onto the floor. Lance appreciatively clapped. _Party foul número uno goes to Hunk!_ Coran did a terrible job of pretending to not look amused and Shiro for some ungodly reason was just _beaming_.

Poor guy. He must’ve needed this more than any of them would ever know.

There was a excitement simmering low beneath the surface as Hunk poured the mysterious space booze generously into each of their cups. It’d been such a long time since any of them had had such freedom to do something so normal, so mundane. It was wondrous and yet at the same time oh-so-sad. 

Memories flashed into the forefront of his mind. Lance felt like he was at one of the Garrison parties back on Earth. All of them stuffed into one of their bunks, passing around a contraband, cheap bottle of something that was as delicious as rubbing alcohol. Even though the liquor tasted like poison, it still was the highlight of the week. 

That’s what this felt like now - those dumb, nostalgic moments at school. And as they all clinked glasses and took the first drink together, that’s all Lance could think about. It was sentimental and sweet and so out of place it was downright _funny_.

And he ended up laughing so hard the space booze went up through his nose and made him choke.

Keith smirked as he swished around his drink like the asshole he was. “For someone who talks big you sure can’t hold your alcohol.”

Lance screwed his face into an instigating leer after he managed to breathe again. “Is that a challenge, big boy?”

A competitive glint sparked in Keith’s eyes, just as he predicted it would. Keith’s impulsivity was Lance’s favorite thing to exploit. It was just too easy. Riling him up was fun, making him suffer was damn-right satisfying. Lance stuck his tongue out at the other teen, and Keith’s eyes narrowed into an annoyed leer.

“Maybe it is.” Keith retorted as he threw back his cup and downed the whole thing.

“Shit.” Lance whispered reverently. He’s a mess; a self-destructive mess.

“Woah, woah, settle down.” Shiro almost choked mid-drink when he saw Keith chugging the mystery drank down like that. He set his glass a little too hard onto the table and wasted no time in getting to his feet. Then he tried to confiscate the kid’s glass, which didn’t end too hot. “We can have fun but we’re not going to make ourselves, sick, okay?”

No matter how much Shiro tried to escape his adult status within the group, he never seemed to succeed.

“He started it,” Keith barked, stubbornly holding the cup out of Shiro’s reach, his glare never leaving Lance. Like a hitman locked on his target. But that wasn’t even the best part. What was the most amazing thing about this scene was that Keith, poor baby Keith’s light skin was already blooming with liquor heat after _one drink_. 

“If I started it, then you’re gonna _finish_ it.” Lance snickered as he immediately poured Keith another glass. As the cup filled with the carbonated blue fizz, Lance started chugging his own drink while maintaining the eye contact with Keith. He thrived off the way the pilot’s eyes lit up, either with renewed annoyance or excitement, he couldn’t tell. He just knew Keith didn’t have the self control to stop this game. 

Once he was in, there was no turning back.

Coran suddenly looked nauseous, his left knee bouncing anxiously. “Maybe Allura was right...”

Hunk almost spat out his drink. “No, no, no. Everything is fine!” He desperately elbowed Lance in the ribs, which simultaneously sucked the liquid down the wrong pipe in Lance’s throat and knocked out all the air in his lungs. As he tried not to die, Shiro ran his hand down his face and sighed, disappointment etched into his tired face. It seemed to be as much a permanent fixture on his face as was his Galra tech arm. 

This was devolving into a disaster. And they’d only been at it for barely two minutes. Guilt crept into Lance’s burning stomach, now uncomfortably bubbling with space booze, and he attempt to wheeze out an apology. And very much failed to make any coherent sense. 

But who could blame a guy when he couldn’t breathe?

But it didn’t matter. Nothing happened. Not even the littlest of consequences. The only thing that did was Coran just sighed. In a pathetic series events that consisted of him draining his half-drunk cup and leaving through the door, he called out a horrified, “Just don’t die, please” and left the Paladins to their own self destructive devices.

Silence descended over the four of them like a blanket. An awkward, suffocating blanket. But Shiro was the one to break the tense silence with an incredulous, “Really guys?” 

Hunk just groaned at the ceiling and sunk deeper into the couch, whining _this is why we can’t have nice things._

“I didn’t mean - ” Keith stuttered, his words a little foggy, before changing mental gears. “It’s all Lance’s fault!”

Two minutes. It had been two minutes and Keith was already starting to slur his words. Lance pounced on that fast. “Buddy, are you drunk?”

“No,” Keith snapped, a slight tinge of humiliation quieting his wobbly words. 

“Oh my god, he _is_.”

“Lance, my friend,” Hunk interjected teasingly, “You sound a little messed up, yourself.”

“‘m not -“ And Lance cut himself midway through, his eyes widening in horror. What the quiznak? It was _true_. He couldn’t lie: he felt a little drunk. Head swimming, belly warm. But that should’ve been impossible. They’d been drinking for like three minutes. Not even. Despite his lack of sleep the past few weeks and the prior emptiness of his stomach when he started, this shouldn’t have been happening this quickly. And for cry out loud, he wasn’t a lightweight. “ _What the fuck?_ ” 

At the profanity, Shiro just deflated.

Obliviously, Keith smirked and aimed an accusatory finger at the blue pilot. “You’re just as drunk as I am!”

“Oh, so you admit it!” And Lance jolted to his feet, taking a battle stance. In retrospect, that had been a terrible idea because that’s when the caste started spinning, the floor slanting sideways. Or maybe it was just the room? Or just him? But whatever it was, Lance’s balance was going to shit and he ended up collapsing back onto the couch, his eyes still wide, his stomach churning. 

“I think we should rethink this.” And there was Shiro, resuming his role as the constant and irritating voice of reason. He plucked the cups out of Keith’s and Lance’s grasps and set them on the table with a frown. “I barely drank any of this stuff, and I feel a little not myself already. Maybe we should just cool it and call it a night, okay?”

Hunk nodded in agreement. “We can postpone this until we get something that we, y’know, actually know what it is? Then we’ll party hard. We promise, dude.” Shiro just nodded along with the yellow pilot.

Keith and Lance both growled underneath their breaths and glared daggers at Hunk. It made the big guy shudder before Shiro told them all to _knock it off_. He all but dragged the two of them up by the collar and out the door towards their dormitories. 

Damn. It never ceased to amaze Lance just how strong the black Paladin really was. On his way out, Shiro asked over his shoulder, “Hunk, can you lock up the bottles somewhere?”

Hunk saluted him and scurried off with the rest of the space booze as Keith and Lance tried to wrestle one another while in Shiro’s captivity. Shiro just sighed and shook his head, mumbling _what did I do to deserve this?_

When they arrived in the Paladin dormitory corridor, Shiro just released the two teens with a frown. “I don’t need to escort you both to your own rooms… right?” 

The words were firm, almost icy. And frankly a little scary. Yet, Lance and Keith shook their heads, while simultaneously glaring at one another through the corners of their eyes.

“Good.” The black pilot said, his tone returning to normal. “I’m going to bed. You two should do the same.”

 _Yes, captain_. 

After Shiro turned down the hallway and out of sight, both teens whipped around to face one another, the fire still lit in their now much woozier eyes. In all honesty, Lance felt a little funny. He undeniably felt _drunk_ , but he felt something else that he couldn’t quite place, too. _Whatever. I’ll worry about it when I have to._

Nothing of the sort was visible in Keith’s eyes. _That ass. He’s too dumb to feel anything, probably._

But before Lance could properly yell at him - for what he had no idea - Keith beat him to it. Except he didn’t say anything. He just dived his hand into his jacket and fished out one of the space bottles from god knows where, the most diabolical expression plastered on his face. 

Lance had to give him props- he was impressed.

“How did you even -?”

“ _Shhhhh_.” Keith put his finger to Lance’s lips. Which he found really weird, but he just went with it. “Let’s go to my room so I can outdrink your whiny little ass.”

_Oh, it was on. On like fucking Donkey Kong._

Making sure they were quieter than quiet, the two Paladins tiptoed through the corridor, hand in hand, Keith pulling him along. Which, Lance, had to be honest, was a little unnecessary. But, like he was about to complain, especially when he was about to school Red’s ass in a drinking contest. 

Whey they arrived in front of Keith’s door, they quickly got through and locked it, just to be safe, all the while _shhh_ ing one another relentlessly. Neither of them wanted Hunk or Pidge, or worse, Shiro or the stick-up-their-ass Alteans to catch onto them. They needed privacy. To _drink_. 

Yeah.

Keith sat cross-legged on his bed and started to fiddle with the cap of the bottle. While he busied himself with that, Lance couldn’t help but noticed how _clean_ the red paladin’s room was. Clothes weren’t wrinkled in heaps on the floor. There weren’t any stray plates from midnight snacks around. Most importantly, there was a clear absence of a dirty laundry smell in the air. The room was a pretty sterile, boring room. Just like Keith. It fit him surprisingly well. 

After getting his fill inwardly teasing him, Lance plopped down next to Keith as he finally managed to pop open the bottle. Like the first time, it frothed onto Keith’s made bed, staining the navy blue blanket with dark drops. He didn’t seem to mind though. What he did seem to care about was keeping his fingers clean, and he licked the liquid from his fingerless gloves in a precise, dutiful way. 

It was like Lance had been electrocuted. Something dropped like cinderblocks into the pit of his stomach, crushing the unsettled sensation that had been bothering him before. Splattering that discomfort all over the walls of his body, making it into something so much _worse_. But, again, he’d worry about it when it became an issue.

 _Mierda_ , he swallowed, was it hot in here or what?

Lance shed off his jacket and tossed it to the floor, becoming the only piece of mess in the room. _Nice_. Keith was still cleaning off his fingers (seriously, what the fuck, dude?) and Lance had to suck in a breath.

Holy shit. Ok. Alright. Mhm. He definitely _knew_ what that mysterious feeling was. 

It had been so long that he forgot he was a horny drunk.

Lance mentally screamed at his dick. Not with Keith though. Oh my god anyone _but_ Keith.

But thank the lord, _gracias al dios dulce en el cielo_ , Keith took his fucking fingers out of his mouth and then, like an idiot, punched Lance in the shoulder. What the hell? Lance winced and immediately got pissed, which did wonders for killing the almost chub we was rocking inside his jeans. “Go on, drink.” Keith entreated, his face bright.

Lance grabbed the bottle and examined it, swishing around the liquid inside it inquisitively. “Hold up. How are we quantifying ‘a drink’?”

“What..?”

“Like… a _drink_.” Lance rose a brow. “We can’t just chug from the bottle. How am I gonna prove that I drank your dumb ass under the table? Er, bed. I mean… You get what I’m saying.”

Keith blinked, utterly lost. “Um.”

“You didn’t steal cups, buddy.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I just told you why that’s a problem.”

Keith scrunched up his nose and was silent for a hot sec. “We can use… seconds. Like time a chug or… something.”

Lance brought his fist to his nose and cocked his head incredulously. “Is that gonna work?”

“Don’t care.” And Keith seemed like he truly didn’t. “I just wanna win.”

“Well, you’re on.” Decisively, Lance slammed his fist down onto the bed with renewed vigor. “How many _seconds_ are we doing?”

“Uhhhh… five?”

“Starting out easy, I gotcha. You keep time, okay? Keep each other honest, yeah?” He elbowed Keith as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Keith just nodded, staring intently at Lance. “Alright, go, then.”

Bottle to his lips, Lance started to chug as Keith counted out loud a little too intensely. Wow. He could not remember this stuff tasting this delicious. He kind of didn’t want to stop. However, when he reached five he indeed did stop, pulled away with a little hollow bottle popping sound, and wiped his mouth. Unceremoniously, he passed it to the red Paladin. Keith took it graciously and waited for Lance’s approval before he started to swallow as much as he could in the allotted five seconds.

This was such a dumb activity, but Lance would be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying himself. 

They kept passing the bottle back and forth, obnoxiously counting aloud for one another. Slowly slurring the numbers, testing each other’s limits, daring each other to literally drown one another in this mysterious yet fantastic beverage. They were making pretty good headway - the bottle was nearing empty after only... five minutes? Ten minutes? It was a little surprising neither of them had vomited yet, but, ehhhh, problem for later, right?

But they had to pause on finishing the bottle out before Keith suddenly spluttered and began to choke. 

Ah, there is it. Baby can’t hold his liquor after all. 

Lance’s hand was instantly on the other’s back, rubbing it soothingly. Sure, he was pretty much gloating that he won, but it didn’t mean he would let Keith die while he savored his victory. You can’t enjoy a good gloat if the other person’s dead. Redness crawled up Keith’s cheeks as he struggled to breathe, and eventually, he wiped his oxygen-deprivation tears away with his knuckles.  
Still, he didn’t exactly look _okay_ after regaining his breath. His pupils were tiny, a thin sheen of sweat glimmered off of his face and neck, and really, Keith just looked _unwell_.

Lance should’ve expected one of them to puke sooner of later.

“Should we head to the bathroom? Do you feel sick?” Lance slurred, his hand not moving from Keith’s back, traveling a little lower so he could rub the middle of his torso. He always liked that when he got fucked up - the tender touches, a friendly voice in his ear talking him through it. And even if it was Keith - stubborn, moronic Keith - Lance wasn’t evil. And besides, all the space juice was making him feel incredibly affectionate.

Keith just shrugged his shoulders and swallowed. Hard. He still looked shocked, on high alert, and now the poor kid’s hands were starting to tremble. “I-I… I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, _you don’t know?_ ”

“I don’t think I’m sick.” Keith rasped, balling his hands up into rigid fists in his lap. He looked sweatier, and redder and Lance was starting to get downright worried. “But I… I feel _weird_.”

“Weird?”

“It just… hit me. Just now. And I,” Keith sucked in a quick breath and his hands clenched tighter. “ I don’t know.” His voice sounded so pathetic, like someone had punched all the strength out of it.

“How does it feel? Are you in pain?” Lance scooted closer and rested the back of his palm over Keith’s sweaty forehead. Oh, shit. “Yeesh, you’re burning up, dude.”

Keith shut his eyes and looked away. He was almost panting. “Not pain. I just - _fuck_.”

“You gotta be more specific than that. I wanna help.” Lance reached to grab his wrist, to make Keith look at him. But Keith yelped, a breathy sound so filled with shock, so _fragile_ sounding. Like a small, frightened rabbit, just having had spotted a sharp-toothed predator lurking in the shadows. “I’m sorry, did I- ?”

Lance almost yelped himself when Keith stood up and bolted away from him. Damn, _those reflexes_. Keith was ripping off his red jacket, tossing it to the floor, all balled up and wrinkled, adding to the steady clutter accumulating in this barren room. Lance was starting to get scared. Keith was turning away from him, facing away at the wall and hugging himself, his shoulders tense, his breathing ridiculous. The boy was _shuddering_.

“Should I call Allura?” Time to panic. Lance hated how powerless he felt in this situation. Worst case scenarios sprung up to the forefront of his brain. What if Keith passed out? Got sick? _Died_? He didn’t want to be responsible for Keith’s death. No siree! That would _suck_. Major balls. And besides… he was starting to warm up to this jerk face. And Keith seemed to be doing the same with him. Which was great. But they couldn’t be friends if Keith just _fucking wouldn’t tell him what was wrong_ and he ended up kicking the bucket in the middle of some weird solar system light years away from Earth. 

“Keith, talk to me!”

“No.” His voice was thick, gravelly, heavy with something Lance couldn’t place but somehow, felt like he knew all too well. “I’m _fine_.”

“You’re _freaking_ right now, dude.”

“For a good reason!” Keith hissed, tightening his hold on himself, supporting himself against the wall.

“Keith!” Lance ignored how terrified his voice sounded. 

“I _can’t_.” His voice cracked. _Cracked._ Keith, the cool cucumber. Vulnerable. He sounded broken, and Lance felt his stomach drop all the way into the soles of his feet. “I think you should leave.”

Leave? There was no way _in hell_. “But if you drop dead overnight…”

“I’m not gonna drop dead, loser.” Keith growled, and Lance’s stomach dropped again, but in a less scared way. In a way that made him want to punch himself (and have a stern talking to with his dick). “It’s something I can fix, it’s _fine_.”

Fix? So he did know what it was. Thank god. That was enough to bring his spirits back to normal, and Lance snorted inappropriately, his words stringing together with a drunken giggle. “What? Do you have to poop or something?”

“LEAVE!” Keith wasn’t having it. He curled up into himself, his own hands low on his hips, the sweat starting to show through his lower back on the black cotton of his t-shirt, his shoulder braced against the wall. “Lance, _please_.”

Alright. Alright.

Lance got up from the bed and grabbed his jacket from the floor with a sour look. “Fine. Have it your way.” And he blew a raspberry at the red pilot, trying to mask how hurt he actually was from being repelled. 

Fuck. There went the growth of that friendship. They always kept starting, progressing, and then something stupid would veer them off track and make them start out at zero again. It was aggravating, but Lance didn’t know how to stop it, know how to exit the loop, and finally put their antagonism behind them. He just wanted to be able to call Keith a friend.

For real.

Leaving, Lance unlocked the door and it opened with a mechanic _whoosh_. But as he stepped through the threshold something in him _pulsed_ and stole all the breath from his lungs.

 _Hijo de puta_ , he had a pretty good idea what that weird feeling Keith had was right about now.

Lance let the door close in front of him, click closed, and then _locked_ it. He turned back to face Keith, still tenaciously in his upwards fetal position against the wall. Lance felt his body responding the same way Keith’s was - the fidgeting hands, the heat spreading through his body like wildfire, the sweat. 

And most likely, the huge fucking boner springing up in his pants.

_What the fuck did they drink?_

Lance’s breath was getting quicker as he tried to organize his next course of action. He could ask Keith about it and possibly ruin their relationship forever. He could ask Keith, and have Keith confirm that he indeed currently sport the largest and most painful erection of his life and they’d be on their merry way and never speak of this incident again. He could also - well, that would _never_ happen.

But Lance liked taking risks, even when they weren’t in his favor.

That’s why he locked the door. Just in case.

“I think I know what’s wrong.” Lance was surprised by how sensual his voice was, how good it sounded in his own ears. Keith must’ve thought something about that because the _chico_ just stiffened, his ears reddening to tomato level. He didn’t say a word. Lance took that as a good sign.

“ _Keith_.” Lance relished in the way the other boy shivered. “I think… I think we drank a sex potion.”

Light years away, months prior, in his own Garrison bunk, Lance would’ve been horrified he had ever spoken these words aloud, to the person he disliked the most, nonetheless. 

But, hey, intergalactic space travel changes a guy.

Keith spun around, eyes wide. Silence blanketed them for a moment. Both just looked at one another, mentally gauging how to move forward. It wasn’t working that well. Keith just licked his lips, making Lance’s awake dick twitch even more awake. The two of them were in something much deeper than they could’ve imagined.

“ _Oh_ ,” was all Keith could lamely say.

What do you mean, _oh_? A wave of fresh desire boiled in Lance’s gut and it made his eyes lose focus, his mouth dry up, his insides burn. His brain was telling him to try, take a leap, test these waters to see if maybe, just maybe Keith was as open-minded as he was. “I hope it’s not weird to say but whatever it was, it made me really, really horny, man.”

Keith just slowly nodded, and grumbled a quiet _same_ as he stared at his boots.

“At least we know we won’t die.” Lance’s voice sounded so feeble. “I _hope_.”

“Yeah…” 

“It’s… fixable, as you so eloquently put it.”

“…”

Lance hated how everything Keith did suddenly looked so fucking _sexual_. How he shifted weight from one leg to the next. How his fingers were pulling on the black fabric of his shirt sleeve. The way the sweat made his black bangs curl even more, sticking to his forehead. Even the way his torso expanded with his uneven breath, how almost visible his pulse was in his neck, the fact that Keith was just _alive_ in general. Admittedly, Lance was pretty sure he could ravish him for merely having a heartbeat. It was that bad, bruh.

He had to steer his mind away from that though before he did something stupid.

This space booze was dangerous.

Lance shrugged. “…I wonder if everyone else is popping a stiffy right about now.”

Keith’s jaw tensed, and he rolled his eyes. “I’m not thinking about Coran with an erection, thanks.”

“Ew, gross.” Lance joked, but his voice’s pitch garbled up and it ended up sounding like he got punched in the gut instead. “But, Shiro? Now, _that’s_ a thought. Dad just rubbing one out. I wonder if he even jerks off regularly -“

“Lance, shut up already!” 

Lance definitely _didn’t_ shriek when Keith lunged at him, flipped them around and pinned him against the wall. Personal space was completely disregarded, apparently. They could feel each other’s breath on their skin, Keith’s body heat bleeding into his own, the sensation of a strong hand holding his waist, the other flat on the wall beside Lance’s head, Keith’s musky scent making him dizzy. He smelled so good… _Oh god_. Even if he hadn’t been drugged up with Galactic Viagra, Lance would’ve still been incredibly turned on by this. All this dominance, aggravation, the closeness…

He liked being trapped.

There was no way he had the power to stop a quiet moan from slipping out of his mouth. Keith’s knees went weak, his exhale caught in his throat.

_Oh no._

“I know what you’re doing, Lance.” Keith hissed, his face moving closer, his tongue pressing into his own cheek as he struggled to keep his cool. “You’re _stalling_. Beating around the bush. I know what you want, just fucking ask already.”

Oh my god. What. Was. Happening? Was this a fever dream? Some hallucinogen-fabricated nightmare? A sex scene he had been subconsciously repressing his whole life?

He had to find out.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but…” Lance swallowed, terrified of the words he was about to speak, but y’know what? Fuck it. “Are you asking me if I want to hook up with you?”

Keith bit the inside of his cheek, but his gaze never wavered. All he did was say back, almost smugly, “You didn’t leave my room.”

“Good point.”

Keith’s face scrunched up with a victorious grin, and Lance swore he’d never seen anything hotter. That raw, uncensored reaction. It tore right through him. Keith could see how that affected him. He had to. Because his entire facade has changed. His voice strained as he leaned in, breathlessly asking against Lance’s nose. “So, what do you say?”

For once, Lance was more impulsive than Keith. He slung his arm around the red pilot’s neck and crashed their lips together. 

Both of them moaned at the contact. Out of fear, relief, pleasure. Who knew. But it was happening. And Lance loved it.

He hoped Keith did, too.

Damn, he hadn’t kissed anybody in awhile. He hadn’t kissed any boys in an even _longer_ while - and he forgot how much he adored it. How he liked being gripped hard, how he wasn’t defaulted to take control of the kiss, how he liked having hard muscles pressing back into his chest, the slight scrape of stubble on his cheek. Oh, baby Keith was so aggressive. Holding him down, quickening the rhythm of their mouths, not stopping to breathe. _Shit_. Lance ached all over. So what if everything was a little sloppy, the technique a little basic? Keith was making him excited. Or maybe it was the space booze. Whatever. Didn’t matter. His body was on fire. He wanted more, never to pull apart. 

But still… Was this _okay_? His brain was telling him _NO, ¡no puto!_ , sirens blaring, the panic button flashing behind his shut eyes. And yet, his body was screaming at him to not stop until both of them were naked, sweating against each other, not letting go, working each other until they were horizontal and hot and satisfied. He wanted to rip Keith apart. Have Keith tear him to shreds. But after this… would they regret it? Probably. They were not currently their normal selves. There was some moral boundary they were crossing, one they weren’t supposed to, and it was yeah, pretty fucked up.

And Lance couldn’t tell if the part of his brain trying to convince him that he’d always wanted Keith like this was just making up excuses in the heat of the moment to justify them swapping spit. 

That kind of scared him.

Lance hated himself, but he eventually pulled away. Keith moaned in protest, and didn’t even miss a beat as he immediately pressed his stupid face into Lance’s neck. Which was his weakest point, that _loser_ , and he found it in less than thirty seconds. And holy motherfucking god, _ay dios fucking mio_ those were _teeth_ and Lance garbled out a pathetic whine and just felt his body submit.

Really, Lance could neck for hours. But nope. Uh-uh. This _hijo_ was on a mission.

“Is this a good idea?” Lance gasped towards the ceiling, shutting his eyes as he panted through his open mouth. Trying not to pass out while Keith dragged his teeth down his throat. And not doing a damned thing to stop him. “Are we gonna hate ourselves after this?”

“Maybe,” Keith’s voice was muffled in his neck, all slurred and hot. “Don’t care though.”

“Damn, big boy.”

Lance felt Keith’s growl against his jugular. “Shut the hell up.” 

_Oh shit_ , more teeth and Lance’s nerves were _reeling_ as he squawked out the most embarrassing sound he ever made on record.

Well, so much for rational thought.

God, he felt so _pliant_. Keith had achieved an unheard-of scientific feat, turning a teenage boy into jelly with only his teeth. Every rushed nip and suck had Lance’s body heating up hotter, his nerves spasming. It felt so good but _fuck_ he needed to be reciprocating. Touching. Making that smug look disappear and replacing it with a twisted expression because Keith couldn’t help but _scream_ because he felt incredible.

Lance felt a little embarrassed that he was being much louder than Keith was, anyway.

His unsteady hands were on Keith’s stomach, tracing the outlines of his skin above the fabric of that silly cotton shirt. It was warm, a little damp from sweat but _hell_ was it nice. What did his actual flesh feel like? Lance’s curious fingers hiked up his shirt to find out and _whoa boy, Keith was ripped_. Easily a six pack, a nice one to boot. One that felt amazing to run his fingers along. Washboard abs that Lance could only dream of getting. The torso he had only ever dreamed of caressing, the kind he had been masturbating to in dirty magazines for most of his days. _Holy fucking god just strike me down._ He wished he had his rosary on him so he could do some Hail Marys because dear Christ he was sinning, sinning _real bad_ right now.

Keith gasped into his neck, and the kisses turned almost feral. Lance could’ve come, sweet Jesus. All this hazy desire, constant stress, and teenage hormones were making this clumsy and harsh, increasingly embarrassing with just how desperate both of them were. But did he care? Hell nah. Besides, he liked things to not be so sweet. The last time he had had bruises from a hookup was forever ago, and that had taken a lot of gentle pushing to get the other person okay with getting rough, a lot of _yeah, I like that it’s okay, I guarantee that that feels good even if you think it doesn’t_. Not with Keith. Oh no. He was all in at any given moment and it was so thrilling. Raw. He was almost drawing blood while they necked, nails scratching red lines into abdominal muscles, curses grinding through clenched teeth, mutual shivering when they both took a step too far.

Lance was drunk from _this_. Not the space booze. _This._

“So fucking hot.” Lance purred, squeezing Keith’s tear-worthy obliques.

“Take off your shirt, then.” 

It took Lance a second to understand. Then he snorted, because Keith was actually _clueless_. “No. I mean… _this_.”

“What?”

“The foreplay.”

Keith had managed to get up to his ear now, nipping the shell and making Lance twist his head away to give him more room, his toes clenching in his boots. “Foreplay?” It was so honest and pure and sincerely confused.

_Oh god, I hope he’s not a virgin._

Or, actually…

Lance, that’s fucking _fucked_. Why does that even matter?

His thoughts just kept fizzling away, coherency swirling down the toilet. His mind drew a complete blank when Keith pulled away and practically tore off his own shirt and then pounced on him again, initiating something that was more bruising than kissing. Aw, _yes_. Lance’s grubby hands greedily touched him everywhere.

He wished he had the drive to want to train everyday. Maybe he’d look half as hot as Keith did. Maybe. Well, for sure he wouldn’t have his skinny little stomach, barely toned, with a little happy trail starting downward from his navel. He just looked so sad in comparison. Keith’s abs were carved out of marble, like a statue of a god. A god that couldn’t really kiss that well, but a god nonetheless.

_Let’s see if I can teach this precious boy some new tricks._

“Stop.” Lance crooned into the corner of Keith’s mouth after an indulgent moment of letting their tongues stroke one another before pulling away. Firmly, he touched the red pilot’s lower belly, his palm rubbing dangerously low on the hem of those tight jeans of his. A physical, whole body hiccup made Keith still, his eyes glaze over, his shiny, red mouth opening in an interested _o_. Lance almost forget what he was even doing. When was the last time he was this desperate, so uncoordinatingly unfocused during a makeout? Jeez, it actually was painful not to just touch the other. Just finish it here and now and have both of them sliding down the wall to the floor together in a contented, blissed-out heap. If there weren’t such things like decorum or shame, he would’ve been horizontal with him by now, shamelessly, filthily humping Keith into the floor and making him _scream_. 

That’s all he wanted. So bad. And Keith’s hips were canting up, generally just looking so completely out of it he probably didn’t know what he was doing, all disoriented with need. He was trying to get his dick into Lance’s fist. _Soon, amigo. Soon enough._

_First I gotta show you what a real hookup is like._

Lance slowly pressed their lips back together, taking the lead this time. Keeping Keith patient, he dropped his hand down along the swells of his stomach, and eventually cupped his cock through his jeans. Lance massaged it in a way that knew would keep him satisfied for the moment but oh-so eager for more. Keith’s face was so beautifully expressive, too. It twisted with the friction, his neck arching and Lance’s stomach flip-flopped, making him realize that touching Keith’s hard dick through his jeans was definitely weird but also a legendary experience.

Lance smirked, the power rush making him shiver with cocky confidence and pleasure as he opened his lips and took the red pilot’s bottom lip between his teeth. Keith made a soft, almost silent noise. _Good_. Taking the next step, Lance tugged it, just barely to the point where it would hurt. Keith immediately froze up. For a split second, he was scared stiff (haha), but that evaporated when Keith forced their lower halves together and started grinding Lance’s ass into the wall.

So impulsive. Even more reactive.

Moaning through his nose, he did it again. Keith lost it for a second time and helplessly rutted back, collapsing his weight into Lance’s body, keeping him exactly where he needed him to be. Lance had to be honest this was doing wonders for his ego. Just because he could, he started bringing out all the bells and whistles. Lance was soon enough kissing him like he was in a kissing contest. It practically was the parkour of kissing. Unnecessary, elaborately exhausting but oh-so worth it. Poor Keith. _Pobrecito_. He looked wrecked. Just exactly as planned.

“Feels good, right?” Lance asked conceitedly, just to be a little shit.

“Yeah.” No hesitation there. At all. Keith was one-hundred percent agreeing with him. That came out of left field, and Lance faltered, a little thrown off by the honesty. Was this the first thing they ever mutually agreed on? Huh.

Why did that make him even more aroused?

“Wanna feel super good?” 

Lance drawled into the crook of his jaw and neck, beginning to trace down his throat, to his collarbone. Keith was trembling from head to toe, like a wet leaf. Why was he being so submissive? Flipping on a dime from shoving him against the wall to melting from an above average kiss. Lance was surprised, frankly. He couldn’t get an accurate read on sexed-up Keith. Couldn’t predict how he’d react. 

And fucking God, that was really _hot_. So hot. And when Keith nodded, his breath stalling in his throat, Lance whispered huskily into his sweaty sternum, “Ever had your soul sucked through your dick?”

“ _No_.” Keith was simultaneously scandalized and unbelievably eager. 

“Well,” Lance whispered, “do you want to?”

Keith refused to respond verbally. He just fisted a handful of Lance’s shirt and tugged downward. 

Lance felt so alive.

As he dropped to his knees (and got to rub his face into those beautiful abs on the way to the floor), he made quick work of Keith’s fly, yanking down those skinny jeans to the bottom of his thighs like it was _nada_. Why he wasn’t freaking out about the idea of his frenemy’s dick down his throat was a problem for another day. That space booze was making everything so urgent, so easy to just take off his clothes and _fuck_. No inhibitions, no second thoughts. His underwear was too tight and sticky, he was dripping precum like it was nobody’s business and he wanted to blow this boy more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life.

So maybe Lance liked giving head. A _lot_. Maybe he had perfected it into an art form. He wasn’t bragging, but _y’know_.

Tanned fingers drummed lightly along the v of Keith’s hips. “In the Garrison, people might have called me the Blowjob Master.”

“No they didn’t.” Keith grunted instantly, tangling his gloved hands into Lance’s hair.

“Yes, they did!” Lance huffed indignantly.

“Who did?”

“Everyone!”

“ _Everyone?_ ”

“Everyone that I blew!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Exactly how many people did you blow there?”

The accusatory timbre transformed Keith’s breathy voice into something close to the usual prick tone he had. Lance flushed - not from the slut-shaming blame, but more from the fact that that ridicule made his dick _throb_. Need literally gripped him by the balls and made it impossible not to press his hand against his own crotch and knead it, biting his bottom as he relieved a fraction of the pressure in his hips. So he did exactly that. “I’m needy, give me a break, okay?”

Case in point.

Of course Keith noticed the break in his confident composure, the sudden jerking motion of his arm as he struggled to give himself a little friction through the thick denim. Lance felt himself get knocked down a peg as he was scrutinized. And that turned him on like nothing else.

“Take it out.” Keith’s grip tightened in his hair, and Lance moaned at the pull. “Touch it while you touch me.”

 _Oh_ , that was an order. Keith ordered him to jack off while he sucked him dry. _Fuck_. Keith was just accidentally nailing every kink of his today. _Fuck off, dude. That’s supposed to be me_.

But, like a little bitch he just swallowed, and unzipped his jeans and fished his prick out. All that confined tension was gone, replaced with freedom, with cool air. His dick pulsing, Lance wasted no time in giving himself a nice tight squeeze. Of course he did so while making eye contact with Keith, and hamming up his reactions all the while. Adding an extra eye flutter, a lip bite. The guttural moan wasn’t fake, though. That was real. And so was the urge to rest his cheek against the crook of Keith’s hip, right beside the bulge in his underwear, just staring up into the pilot’s quickly flushing face as Lance lewdly jerked himself off.

_That’s right, Keith. Eat my ass._

Anyway…

He needed to show this boy what this mouth could do.

Rule number one for giving a fucking great blowjob (according to Lance): act like you’re in love with their dick. Lick your lips, leave wet kisses just above the waistband of their underwear, look overwhelmed when you glance at the sheer size of their cock, and then flick your eyes back up at them. Don’t forget to subtly grin. It’s gentle in transition, make sure it’s all natural looking. Maybe groan against their thigh, tell them how much you’ve wanted them in your mouth. Lie through your teeth. It’s about making them feel good.

Lance had this down to a science.

But for some reason, he wasn’t doing these first easy steps correctly. His brain and body just wouldn’t sync.

There was no finesse in the way he choreographed the moves together. It was awkward, and his fingers kept shaking and he kind of was paying more attention to fucking his own fist than sucking Keith off until his little angry soul transcended into heaven. What the hell? If he couldn’t get through rule one, how was he supposed to get through the other four??? He was supposed to be sexy, acting like he was a submissive sex god while actually low-key dominating the fuck out of the other’s dick. 

None of that was happening. And it was making Lance sloppier, more panicky and a whole lot more insecure about his abilities.

Blame it on the space booze, but Lance seemed to have lost his groove.

But, not for nothing, Keith didn’t seem to notice that he was totally off his BJ game. If anything he looked awestruck, and his mouth hadn’t even touched him yet. Did this kid ever have anybody ever go down on him before? Probably not. Keith’s people skills sucked. Sure, he was drop dead gorgeous and had a body that would make anybody get down on their knees and pray, but he also had a shitty personality and a closed off emotional side to him that he should probably talk to a professional about. In short, Keith wasn’t easy to get along with. He was intimidating as fuck. And, unsurprisingly, that usually didn’t earn anyone any sexual favors.

Shit, maybe he _was_ a virgin.

Oh, poor baby boy.

Lance was gonna go all out for Keith’s dick. Dicks out for Keith.

Or so he tried. But honestly, it was difficult, almost impossible. The space booze made him inept, needy. It was like he was in heat or something. It was _miserable_.

But literally all he could think about was getting off. Sure, he was pretty selfishly sex driven at times, but this was a whole new realm of _yikes_. He had to forcibly remind himself that Keith needed to come, too. _Okay, tiger, let’s go_. After another few moments of fumbling strokes, Lance realized that maybe he was a little too compromised to adequately give soul-sucking head. 

An average blowjob would certainly do the trick here. 

He pulled Keith out of his underwear and Lance swore he totally didn’t start to drool. Keith’s dick was fucking _glorious_. Or just looked like that right now to his hormonally messy brain. It was swollen, such a pretty red color, and he could map out every detail, every vein, even the little beauty mark towards the bottom of his shaft. He could feel how hot it was even inches away, and Jesus Christ, he even smelled good. Lance didn’t exaggerate his groan as he pressed his lips against his slick, pretty head and kissed it softly.

Keith instinctively pressed his own back into the wall and his knees started to quake. Oh, _chico_ get fucking ready for this. This ain’t nothing yet.

His lips opened and Keith’s head slipped so easily into his mouth. Lance, with a smile, moaned around him and started to suck. Keith gasped loudly and the grip in Lance’s hair got painful very fast. Not that he’d complain about that, ever. Keith’s hooded eyes were struggling to stay open as he reverently focused on Lance swallow his length down, taking him in all the way until the tip of his dick hit the back of his warm throat. Humming, Lance cupped the pilot’s balls and stroked them gently. Keith forgot to breathe.

That’s when the actual work started. Lance sucked him just right as he pulled off, and right before the tip left his mouth he swirled his tongue around the head, flicking the slit real nice a few times before bobbing his head all the way back down. So fluid and practiced, Lance almost didn’t have to think about the actions. Keith, on the other hand, was having trouble keeping himself from making a complete embarrassment out of himself. His hips too easily snapped to meet Lance’s mouth, and the occasional choke on Lance’s end was of course unavoidable. But it wasn’t anything Lance couldn’t handle. Besides, getting choked on felt good. Keith was a living testament to that - every gag had the pilot opening his mouth, shutting his eyes and his shoulders tensing. Thrusting forward and grinding out barely audible curses between his rapid breaths.

It was amazing to watch. Even if Lance was a little worried he might hurl on his junk from all the abuse going on with his gag reflex.

But it didn’t matter, he wasn’t doing this for much longer. This blowjob was destined to be short lived. Keith didn’t have the stamina, Lance didn’t have the discipline and after all, they were devolving faster and faster into pure desperation. At least, that’s how Lance was feeling. They had ingested an unknown, possible lethal amount of a questionable aphrodisiac, after all. 

And not being able to come yet was _agonizing_.

Lance pulled off with a pop, his jaw just barely sore before he asked Keith what he wanted from him.

Keith wasn’t expecting that apparently, being asked. Maybe he just anticipated things being done with no questions asked. A little clarity brightened his foggy eyes, and for some reason he looked uneasy. “Um, I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” Lance scoffed, rolling his jaw once because it felt good. Keith seemed to not know about a lot of things tonight. “C’mon, it shouldn’t be hard. Think with your dick, dude. What do you wanna do with me?”

“With… with _you_?”

Lance narrowed his eyes warily. “…That’s kinda how sex works, Keith.”

At _sex_ , Keith stiffened. “We’re gonna have _sex_?”

One-hundred percent confirmed virgin right here. Ding ding ding.

“We don’t have to do it… the traditional way, if you don’t wanna. I mean… sex is just an umbrella term. Anything that gets us both off is sex to me.” Lance stood back up, a little taken aback with how wobbly his legs were, a little ashamed with how he was starting to babble. But those self-deprecating thoughts were pushed back, and were replaced with that one track mantra: _get off, get off, now_. 

He was having trouble not listening to that voice. So, Lance just gave up on suppressing himself. He pretty much dove face-first into Keith’s neck, because he needed to be doing something. It wasn’t an option to stand still anymore. And his dick hurt so bad, he was basically rutting against Keith’s outer thigh as he sucked a dark hickey into his pale skin.

Keith seemed to like it, though. He held Lance close, and more confidently than Lance would’ve ever expected from this stick-in-the-ass, placed his hand over Lance’s dick and rubbed his sticky, leaky cock as he fucked a mess against his thigh. Lance cursed a _cójame_ into the pilot’s shoulder, because it’s really the only thing he wanted, and Keith just snorted.

“What was that?”

“Leave me alone.” Lance mumbled, nudging against the pilot’s thigh more insistently. Code-switching always became a little hazy when he was overwhelmed, stressed, horny beyond all possible thought. Usually he could separate the Spanish and English but now things were just jumbling together into a bilingual mess. Lance just was a mess, the definition of one. 

And, please, could someone explain to him how Keith was so chill about this? Didn’t he hurt all over from not getting off? How was he not on the floor begging to fuck? Just like Lance was about to do if things didn’t move along soon. It was super unfair. 

“I just wanna come, dude.” Lance pleaded into his flesh, rolling his hips into Keith’s fist.

Sympathy and guilt made Keith cough, his motions stifle, his voice trail off into a whisper. “Yeah…”

“So..” Lance countered, reverting this interaction into what they did best - an instigation-riddled back and forth. He straightened himself up and faced Keith head on. Eye contact was always suggestive, inflammatory. “How do you wanna? We could just jerk each other off but, I mean, that’s pretty lame.”

“…Definitely.” That side glance away was all Lance needed to confirm that Keith was a vanilla, summer child. It would’ve been hysterically adorable if Lance’s dick didn’t feel like it was going to explode. He’d tease him about it later, when he wasn’t salivating.

“Can I make a few suggestions?” Lance’s voice cracked a little, and he wanted to _die_. “One, let’s move to the bed. Two, let’s get naked. And three… you should get on your hands and knees.”

He watched Keith’s face set aflame. And Lance just rolled his eyes, purposefully dragging his dick closer to Keith’s own bare crotch. “I’m not putting anything inside you, jeez.”

“…Alright.” He didn’t look too convinced, but Keith started to shuck his clothes off without any notion of shame. Lance was impressed - but then again, he probably was in just as much sexual agony as he was. Keith was probably just better at hiding it, unlike Lance, who whined at every little inconvenience that plagued him. He couldn’t help it, though. He was so _sensitive_. So desperate.

And to be frank, the rest of Team Voltron could’ve been watching this, and Lance still would’ve been down to debauch Keith here and now. 

Bruh was not in a good place at the moment.

Lance tried to mask how hard he was ogling the pilot as he stripped. His full, naked torso was everything he could’ve asked for. Lean, defined muscle, warm skin dotted with beauty marks here and there, a couple of hickeys (courtesy of him) blooming dark all over his thoat. Then those skinny jeans were off with his socks, and Keith was fully exposed in front of him. Lance didn’t even have the capacity to feel inadequate as he stared - this was wank material probably for the rest of his life. And when Keith turned on his heel to get to the bed, Lance had to stop himself from sobbing.

That _ass_. 

Lance quickly stripped into his birthday suit and joined Keith on the bed, the mattress squeaking beneath the extra weight. Keith was doing exactly what he was told - hands and knees, that flawlessly rounded ass with the cutest little birthmark on his left butt cheek all exposed in the air. Lance literally had to stop himself from legitimately crying, like actual tears, he was so thankful. He couldn’t, however, prevent himself from giving his bottom a little smack. He expected to get reemed out for that.

Keith just sucked in a breath and stayed quiet.

Alright, maybe not a complete sweet summer child.

“Hey babe,” Lance joked, “got any lube?”

“Yeah, it’s right here.”

Lance choked on his disbelieving laughter as Keith reached under his bed and extracted a small bottle. So many questions surfaced to his brain. _Where? How? Why? Keith, what the fuck do you use that for?_ But none of them translated into real verbal words. Keith just gave it to him, with a lusty, private smile and got right back into place. 

He was giving him total control. Full trust.

(Even more wank material.)

Clearing his mind, or doing his best to do so, Lance squirted a generous amount in his hand and said in a quivery voice, “I’m putting this on your legs, okay? It might feel a little weird.”

“…Why?”

“Because I’m gonna fuck your thighs.”

Keith swiveled his head around and gave him an incredulous look. “Why?”

“Because,” Lance said, his face heating up, his movements hurried, either from desire or embarrassment he wasn’t positive, “It’s gonna feel good for both of us. Just trust me.”

“But how - _oh_.”

Lance was grinning like an asshole as he slicked his slippery hand between Keith’s legs and stroked along the underside of his cock, balls and the curve of his ass. Nice fluid motions covering a lot of area. Sweet and rhythmic and making Keith freeze. “You’re gonna like it when it’s my dick doing this.”

Keith’s spine arched, and Lance could tell he was in fact, loving it already. Without much artistry, he finished slicking up his inner thighs, gave Keith’s erection a few generous pumps to slick it up, and did the same to his own dick. With a groan, he placed his hands on Keith’s hips and purred, “Close your thighs, nice and tight, _cariño_.”

They clamped shut. Lance hiked up Keith’s ass higher into the air, whistling appreciatively at the view. In response, Keith groaned, and as an apology Lance dotted a kiss to the middle of his sweaty back. It seemed to placate him well enough, because his body deflated, his muscles less taut. It was really pretty to watch, in all honesty. With a reassuring squeeze, Lance mumbled nice things into his skin that he wasn’t sure were in English or Spanish, but it didn’t matter, the tone was all that counted, right? He kissed the dip in Keith’s back, felt him exhale, and the two of them relaxed. Ok. Ok this was happening. 

And finally, _finally_ he pressed his cock through his legs. Sweet, sweet pseudo-penetration.

He was met with more resistance than expected; all sleek fleshy sensations and yet so snug. Lance groaned, his whole body wracking with a shudder because _yes, tight everywhere_. Keith twitched, almost like a squirm and Lance shhhh’d him for some reason, and thrust back and through again. This time, he made sure to brush against Keith’s balls and cock in one clean stroke that had him tensing up and ducking his head in what Lance prayed was pleasure. 

Lance took his stiff silence as a good sign and repeated the action. This time, Keith forcibly gasped, and then and there Lance knew it was safe to keep going. So he did.

This was beyond incredible. Yeah, regular sex would’ve blown his mind, but this was just as good in its own regard. Skin on skin, all sticky and hot with the best view. Lance was just mesmerized by Keith’s perky ass, his lower back curved like a stretching, limber kitty cat, making his bottom all the more round and soft and beautiful. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, just watching his dick go in and out of between his legs, wet schlick sounds making this so much lewder, so much sexier than believably possible. Lance was incredulous that all of this was happening. It was too surreal, dream-like. 

And _fuck_ , Keith’s body felt fucking fantastic. His thighs were perfect together, not too tight, oh so warm, surprisingly supple. Not to mention how equally amazing his balls were. How fucking nice it felt to end the stroke there, just rutting against his own erection and coming back to have Keith’s warm sac just drag over him. Lance was losing his mind, and he hoped Keith was, too.

But a little extra push was always a good idea.

Lance found himself a steady pace, moaning with every other movement through the huff of his nose. Eventually when he could, when he felt stable enough, he reached around Keith’s body, grabbing his leaky prick and gave it nice, satisfying squeeze. Keith’s breathing hitched, but then it _stopped_ when Lance pressed forward, slid their dicks together, and then stroked both of them off in one thick motion, crammed together in the clammy heat of his fingers. He knew he was fucking against every amazing part on Keith’s lower half - the usual suspects, his taint, his ass. The guy was practically vibrating with pleasure. The alternating rhythm of the thrusts, the rocking, the filthy things Lance was choking into the airspace above him had Keith panting harshly, loudly. But, lord, that boy was absolutely quiet all the while. Apparently Keith wasn’t a moaner. _Huh_.

As long as he creamed himself, it was all good in Lance’s book.

He just kept fucking Keith’s thighs, and eventually the rhythm disintegrated into nonsense staccato jerks. Lance was shallowing out, quickening, focusing on getting himself there because he just couldn’t help himself. His hands weakly grabbed Keith’s dick, and Keith was breathing fast, his pants getting more erratic, arousal blooming in patches along his neck, his back, his arms. But he was getting frustrated fast, too, and he used his own hand to join Lance’s useless one and helped rut themselves together, all dirty and full of friction and Keith sounded like he was suffocating and Lance was whimpering into his back and he just wanted to _come_ all ready.

But even in his orgasm-now mentality, he still couldn’t come first. Keith needed to. It was a pride thing. A stupid, stupid pride thing that space booze couldn’t compromise. Lance’s other hand was still on Keith’s side, bruising up his pallid skin with the intensity of his grip, and barely thinking Lance ghosted his hand over that bubble butt, and then with even less thinking, pressed one of his lubed fingers against Keith’s hole.

Keith yelped, and his body just buckled and he said something Lance couldn’t understand. Lance mumbled something back, something soothing and sensual and pressed his finger inside him, through the ring of muscle, shallow but still inside, and Keith _sobbed_ as he collapsed forward.

That was the tipping point for Lance because suddenly he was _igniting_ , shuddering and everything felt like perfection. His orgasm hurt, it fucking _hurt_ in the best conceivable way and he cried out into Keith’s burning skin, his hips erratic through trembling thighs, his finger slipping out of Keith’s ass, his whole body short circuiting, giving up. He was overwhelmed. Everything was blurry and he cried out nonsense Spanish, he had no idea what he was saying but it was just automatic, instinctive and as much as it was frying his nerves he never wanted it to end. Yeah, so maybe he was tearing up during his release, maybe that was gonna eat away at his self worth later, but honestly, no one could blame him. He couldn’t. He felt like he had been born, had died and been resurrected in the span of fifteen seconds.

And Keith - what the fuck even was going on with Keith? Lance suddenly regained the ability to sense things besides the explosion of sensation inside his own body and that’s when he felt Keith shuddering quietly against him, new warmth dirtying his already filthy fingers. Suddenly the pilot’s arms buckled and the poor guy kinda collapsed onto his bed, breathing like he had been holding it for five minutes underwater, just rocking his hips into the Lance’s crotch, burying his head into a pillow like his life depended on it. Like he was groveling.

Yeah, he finished alright.

Lance meanwhile couldn’t move. He kinda was just slumping against Keith’s equally useless body, which wasn’t terrible, and he was a little guilty about it. But he was exhausted and a little cuddly, a little silly and so, so satisfied that he didn’t really give a shit. He hoped that Keith wouldn’t tell him to move. He didn’t think he could even do that much.

And he kinda didn’t want to move, either.

They were like that for a while. Whatever had been in that space booze, whatever drugging effect had fucked up their systems, was gone. Lance felt like himself, albeit a little sleepy, a little like he was tipsy and, overall, just amazing. The best afterglow in the world, actually. His bones were pretty much jello, like that weird green gloop they’d been eating everyday in the castle. Warm, tingly green gloop. Truly an incredible feeling. He curled up in it, smiling like a fool, and relished in how comforting Keith’s body was. How it mingled with his own cozy heat. 

But then Keith shifted, the heat vanished and Lance was brought back to reality.

This wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t drink that stuff. Don’t get too complacent. 

Keith moaned into his bedsheets and said some words Lance didn’t comprehend. “What?”

“감사.” 

What the hell? Was that English? It sure as hell didn’t sound like it…

Holy shit. Did Keith speak something besides English….? Lance’s afterglow was sapped out of him. He truly was the worst friend/friend with benefits/what-the-hell-were-they-now in the world. Lance wanted to kick his own ass.

Instead, he just rolled away from Keith and braved facing him. On his side, he lay there waiting for the red pilot to peak out from his submissive, dead-like downward dog pose. It took time, but Keith eventually lifted his head enough and peered at Lance with one dreamy, coal-colored eye. His skin was glowing, there were fold marks on his cheek from being face first in the sheets, and all that crap drying on his mouth was definitely drool. 

Lance’s heart skipped a beat.

_Oh no._

“Um,” Lance flushed and propped himself up on an elbow, half-assedly making a move to leave, “I guess I should go back to my room now…”

“Like hell you are.” 

And Lance yipped as he was yanked back onto the bed. Keith wordlessly pulled the blankets over them and snuggled in close to Lance’s body, wrapping around him like a selfish kitty cat. What the hell, what the hell, what the hell was Keith doing? Keith, the Keith that piloted the Red Lion, the biggest stick-up-the-ass member of Team Voltron, was trying to cuddle with him.

 _What happened to the real Keith?_ Did he actually die during the space booze and the thigh-sex? Who was this creature in bed with him?

“Are you feeling alright?” Lance needled, touching the back of his hand to Keith’s sweaty forehead for the second time that night. “Also, just lettin’ you know, if I don’t get out of this bed in five seconds I’m sleeping here all night.”

“That’s fine.” Keith shrugged, trying to keep his face neutral, or as neutral as he could as he tried to spoon him. ‘Trying’ being the key word. “You should stay.”

Lance whistled awkwardly, averting his gaze to the wall. “Okay… but… I have to ask something, first.”

“Go for it.”

“…Is this _you_ that wants me to stay or the space booze?”

Keith paused, opening his eyes a little wider. They met Lance’s, and the two of them just stared at one another for an agonizingly awkward beat. Everything from the past hour caught up with them, sunk into the reality that wasn’t isolated from what they had done, and suddenly Lance felt… well, scared.

The moment stretched on for far too long, but eventually, Keith sighed He looked away as he began to speak. “To be honest… I don’t know.”

Okay. That was something they could work out tomorrow. That was fine for now. He couldn’t even begin to make heads or tales of his own feelings, and that kind of was a shit move to demand Keith to it now.

At that Lance smiled, a small weight lifted from him, and he shifted closer, slinging one arm behind Keith so he could rub circles into his back. “Well, same. And I also don’t know if it’s the space shit or not, but I also wouldn’t mind if we made out for a bit before passing out.”

Keith rolled his eyes and flipped over, turning his back to him. “Nope. Last thing your mouth touched was my dick.”

Balking, Lance flinched and wrapped his arms childishly around Keith’s middle. “That’s totally unfair. And untrue. I kissed your back a few times and your neck! How could you forget?!”

“Don’t care. That’s gross and I’m not kissing you and your dick breath.”

“Keith!” Lance screeched. 

But he wasn’t having it. And Lance was too tired to wrestle him. He just sighed and muttered bitterly, “I guess we just have to spoon like losers.”

“Fine.” 

“Yeah, _fine_.”

It was.

But, also, apparently not.

“And next time,” Keith added, “make sure you make due with your best blowjob ever promise.”

“First of all, _how dare you._ ”

\---------

The next morning, after they managed to shower and dress without anyone suspecting anything, or seeing anything, or thinking anything, they made their way to breakfast to join the others. At the table, everyone was barely awake, as per usual, and eating whatever it was that Coran had fixed them.

Green goo again. How wonderfully mundane and normal.

Lance grabbed a plate and plopped down next to Hunk, while Keith sunk into a chair next to Shiro and just stirred around his food. There was lots of yawning, forks clacking against the plates, soft chatter between Allura and Coran. It was all too normal.

And since Lance felt guilty, the normalcy was suffocating. So he did what he always did when he was insecure.

He opened his big mouth.

“Hey, guys…” Lance tried to sound casual, but he just sounded suspicious. Dammit. “Did that space booze, y’know… did anybody get… _sick_?”

Shiro dropped his spoon onto the floor, and Coran almost choked on his goop. 

It took all of Lance’s willpower not to meet Keith’s eye, but he could see the red pilot tense up in the peripheral of his vision. Either in warning, in anger, Lance couldn’t tell.

He _had_ to know, though.

Shiro’s face was turning a little pink. Suspiciously rosy. “Last night? I was fine. I just went to sleep. Yep.”

Coran nodded vigorously, and started to shovel his breakfast into his mouth a little too enthusiastically. “Oh, yes! Passed out like a light! Slept just fine. Felt totally normal! Mmmhmm!”

Lance couldn’t help himself. He turned to look at Keith, and bless up, he was looking right back at him, a skeptical look on his face that matched Lance’s own.

 _Liars,_ they thought together, for once, totally in sync.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry i know it's not my best maybe my next one will be
> 
> this originally had a ton of spanish peppered throughout, but i cut out so much of it and this survived
> 
>  **translation station**  
>  fiesta - party  
> mierda - shit  
> gracias al dios dulce en el cielo - thank you sweet god in heaven  
> hijo de puta - son of a bitch  
> no puto - no, bitch  
> ay dios mio - oh my god  
> hijo - son  
> Pobrecito - poor little boy  
> Ayúdame, por favor - help me, please  
> cójame - fuck me  
> cariño - baby, dear  
> 감사 - thanks (super informal)


End file.
